Late, reading ghosts.

I am who I am.
I am where I am.
No more, nor less.

Seeking signs
late nights
into morning,
every morning.

The lost, arcane word,
orbiting you,
that I track,
yet can't find,
is consuming me.

The word,
"come ye, find me?"
or was it
(I think more likely)
"Begone, ye foul goblin."

Each would be welcome
in a silence
that deafens me
and eclipses my reason.

Is it a problem, lack of concern,
or something simpler?

Again,
silence
scream into my ears,
my very core.